


More Real Than You Think

by orphan_account



Category: Actor RPF, Broadchurch, Casanova (UK), Doctor Who, Gracepoint (TV), Hamlet (2009)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 10:35:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8887594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: David Tennant's characters are far more real than he'd like to admit.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Another random old fic I found. Probably won't finish it, sorry.
> 
> I don't own anything you recognize.

David ran a hand through his hair as he fumbled for his keys. He had just found out that he would be playing Casanova, and was excited. He finally managed to get the key in the lock and push the door open. He dropped his bag in an armchair and went to turn on the light when a familiar voice spoke.

 

“David, I need you not to freak out. Don’t-”

 

David jumped, whirled around to try to catch sight of his intruder, and fell, hard.

 

“…do that.” the other man sighed. David heard someone strike a match. The actor blinked in the sudden light, attempting to make out the face of the trespasser.

 

He froze. It was his face. His own face, peering down at him (although with blue eyes and lighter hair) smiling his smile, and wearing a shiny, old fashioned blue coat. He leaned over David, a long, thin hand outstretched for him to shake.

 

“Hello,” he said, grinning. “Giacomo Casanova.”

 

 

David was still frozen in place, sprawled across the floor. He had been for several minutes now, and the self-proclaimed Casanova had long since given up on the idea of a handshake. He was now wandering aimlessly about the room, picking up objects at random and examining them before replacing them carelessly. Eventually, David found his voice.

 

“ _…What?_ ”

 

Casanova glanced over, eyebrows raised. “’What’, what?”

 

David was still struggling to put the words together. “But you… I mean, you’re…”

 

Casanova set down a picture of the actor’s family. “Casanova. The one, the only.”

 

“But… but you’re not… Well, you died hundreds of years ago, and even then, you probably didn’t look like… _you can’t be real_.”

 

“Clearly, I can.”

 

“But-”

 

Casanova frowned. “You got the part, didn’t you?”

 

“Um, yes, but-”

 

“So you will play me, yes?”

 

David was getting annoyed. Casanova, if that was really who he was, sounded like he was patiently explaining something to a small child. “Yes, but-”

 

“So who are you to say I’m not real?” Casanova jabbed a finger at the actors’ chest. “I’m going to be more real to you than ‘real’ people you don’t know half way across the world while you’re dressing up and pretending. So there’s no point, _David McDonald_ , in telling me I’m not real.”

 

David managed to get to his feet. “But that- I’m sorry, but that makes no sense!”

 

Casanova smirked. “That’s life. Get used to it.”

 

“But-”

 

Casanova cut him off. “I’m sorry you can’t accept it now, but you will eventually. You’ll get used to me. Soon enough you won’t even think about me being here.”

 

“You mean you’re staying here?”

 

“Well, I can’t exactly go gallivanting about on the streets, can I? The twenty-first century,” he added, looking admiringly around the room. “It’s amazing, really. Anyway, you must be tired. Don’t worry about me, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

 

He pushed David into his room and closed the door as the actor collapsed into the pillows.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

 

When David woke the next morning, he assumed it had all been a dream. He was not prepared, therefore, to find Casanova lounging on his couch, sipping a cup of coffee and watching the news.

 

“Morning,” said Casanova lazily. “It’s supposed to rain today. It’s always raining here, isn’t it? I don’t know how you stand it.”

 

He looked over when there was no reply. David had once again frozen, halfway through running a hand through his hair, elbow suspended in disbelief. A bathrobe hung off his skinny frame, and his pajamas were still rumpled. After a long silence, he asked weakly: “That was real?”

 

Casanova sighed. “Must we go through this again?”

 

“No,” said David, mind more alert now, “I just thought it had been a dream.” He stepped closer, examining Casanova’s face. “That really is weird.” He muttered. “Seeing someone else with my face.”

 

“The feeling is mutual. Although, if anything, you’ve got my face. Count your blessings there, Tennant.”

 

David smiled, beginning to enjoy himself. “Oh, cocky as ever.”

 

“Blame yourself for that, you’re the one playing me that way,” replied Casanova into his mug.

 

David chuckled. “I suppose so.” He looked hesitantly into his character’s face. “Will…will anyone else be able to see you?”

 

Casanova flashed him a grin. “Wondering if you’re going mad?”

 

“No! No, I…well…. You can’t blame me for that.”

 

“No, I suppose I can’t.”

 

David flopped down in the armchair. “So- can anyone else see you?”

 

Casanova’s grin grew, if possible, wider. “Why? Planning on bringing a few girls over?”

 

“No!” repeated David hastily. “I just want to know if this is a mental thing or, I don’t know…”

 

Casanova eyed him curiously over his mug. “You don’t want this to be real. You’re coming up with any excuse you can for my existence. I’m very good at reading people you know.”

 

“I know.” David’s voice was muffled as he put his head in his hands.

 

“In answer to your question: I’m just as real as you think I’m not.” On that enigmatic note, Casanova set his mug down, winked, and left David alone.

**Author's Note:**

> comment/kudos/etc?


End file.
